Riddick

Nim is surprised when I lead her past all the bunks. Sure, that's on my mind. When isn't it? But it's not the only thing I'm able to think about. First and foremost, we need to discuss what's going to happen next. Namely, why I pull her into the medlab and start scrounging around for anything useful.

Dermaplast, antiseptic, and a pile of gauze get set on a tray as I find them. All the laser scalpels are busted, so I'll just have to do this the elegant way. Setting one of my knives on the tray seals the deal for her. She's put two and two together, and is now covering her clavicle.

"Really? Can't we just EMP it or something?" I don't even have to tell her to sit down: she's already settled in, and pulled off her shirt. I run a finger beneath the shoulder strap of her bra, frowning thoughtfully. She reads my thought easily, and shucks out of that next.

"Mmm. Now that is a sight I'll never get tired of." I have to voice my appreciation for her. She has perfect breasts, just the right size to cradle in my hand and squeeze. She smells better when she wants me. Best of all, she blushes right down to her nipples. There'll be time enough for that later.

I press my fingers along her collarbone, feeling around the small scar. The tracking chip isn't going to be large. It's not going to be deep either. Subcutaneous. Finally, I feel the small cylinder, closer to her artery than I'd like. She tips her chin back, tilting her head to the right when I tap her jaw lightly.

I do this the right way. I focus on what I'm doing, instead of what I'm feeling. She's so vulnerable like this, her throat exposed. Vulnerable and trusting. I wish she didn't trust me. But she lets her guard down when we're alone. She convinces me to let mine down too.

The animal in me prefers knowing she's mine to protect. I don't know which side of her I like better. I'm so proud of her when she flashes claws at someone. Like her father. She's been raw and angry since figuring out her father isn't who she remembers. She'll be angrier when she realizes what I intend to do. She'll be angry at me.

"This will hurt." I warn her. She's foolish for trusting me. I'm stupid for letting her. No one was supposed to get this close again. This is all going to blow up in my face, and I'll have no one to blame for it but myself. She squeezes her eyes shut as the tip of my blade bites her skin. She squeezes the arms of the chair until her knuckles pop. Her heart rate skyrockets as I spread apart the cut with my fingers, using the tip of the knife now as a lever. That little cylinder makes an appearance amid the scarlet welling up from the wound.

"Don't move," I whisper, hoping it won't spook her. I smell the salt of her tears before I see them leaking from her eyes. Grinding my teeth, I manage to get purchase on the tracker, and pull it free. The knife is dropped to the floor. Gauze is held tight against the cut. I palm the tracker before leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of her head, right in the center of her riot of curls. "Well done, Nim."

She whimpers in relief and the tension that had been keeping her still turns into full-on tremors. Part of me is damned happy that she doesn't like pain. It takes a few moments to get the blood to stop, but I'm confident I didn't nick the artery. I know what that kind of spray is like. The Dermaplast is the last bit. The shit's old, but it'll work. I can't help but smirk quietly as I basically glue her back together.

"What's that face for?" Nim's gingerly pulling her shirt back on. Her bra is tucked in my back pocket.

"Promise you won't hit me if I tell you?"

She squints at me, trying to figure out what I find so funny. "Promise." It's a cautious promise. Good girl.

"Never thought I'd be gluing my girlfriend back together."

She doesn't have an answer for that. Staring at me, she goes from dumbfounded to confused. She takes a breath, but doesn't have anything to say. I give in, and rescue her from her own thoughts.

"We should go find the captain's berth. Claim it before that jamoke does. Might even have a real bed."

She stands up slowly, and together we clean up the evidence of our impromptu surgery. I should feel guilty about not smashing the tracker right away, but I don't. To do what we need to do, we're going to need the Company off our backs. There's only one way to secure that kind of freedom. They need to have a long enough trail to track us back to Discovery.

The captain's bunk ends up being not as nice as I'd hoped. But there is a bed. And it's big enough for any kind of activity we can imagine. But right now, neither of us want that. Instead, Nim turns the lights to the lowest setting, and slides my goggles off for me. We opt to just lay in the bed, facing each other, quietlike. We rest without sleeping. For once, the inactivity doesn't bother either of us.

"Did you mean that?" she asks eventually. Hours later. At least. "Girlfriend?"

"Yeah. There a problem with that?"

She shakes her head against the pillow, and smiles. "Just glad I'm good for more than just sex, I think."

"Sex is a damned good bonus." I don't realize I'm smiling until she traces the contours of it with a fingertip. She caught me cold. All I can think to do is pull her close, and then, in one movement, pull her on top of me. Her laughter promises that everything between us is good. Even though I know it won't stay this way. I need this while I can have it.

Besides the fact that I'm being selfish, she's thinking. The least I can do is let her do that. I run my hands up and down her back as she thinks. She doesn't tell me to stop. She doesn't move. So for now, this is good. She finishes her thought eventually.

"We're not going to make it back to Discovery, are we?"

Shocked, my hands stop. She knows she hit the truth as soon as my eyes close. Shoulda kept the goggles on. My poker face is better that way.

"That's why you haven't smashed the tracker, isn't it?" Nim pushes ahead. She doesn't sound upset, not yet. "Because you need it. Because you made a deal with the Company."

I'm not smiling anymore. I'm not willing to answer her. She's figured it out this far. She'll make the connections to see where this is going.

"We can't fight a war on two fronts. Necros or the Company. Pick the poison." Nim sighs, and lays her head down on her arms. The shortened curls tickle my nose. But I really don't mind. She's not pulling away. "Is... is this the right choice, though? Will turning him over really get that target off our backs?"

"Maybe." I finally have something other than silence to answer her with. "For a bit."

"For a bit." The slow repeat sets my teeth on edge. She hasn't moved yet, but I feel like she's worlds away. Determined, I keep my silence, waiting for her to think her way through. The longer the silence stretches on, the worse I feel. Stupid for admitting first that we are anything beyond a good fuck. Idiotic for letting her get that close. Gullible for believing that just because she's half-Furyan that this, we, even had a chance. The longer I dwell the worse it gets.

"Nim?" Breaking the silence is torture. I don't want to know how she's going to answer. "You okay?"

She picks her head back up, resting her chin on her crossed arms again. Those green eyes focus on me, almost seeming to glow in the barely-lit room. I see every bit of her expression. There's no mystery here for me.

"I... I feel worse for the people on that rock," she admits. "Papa... I hardly recognize him. I think I'm mostly just mad, I guess? He left me, and never came back. I thought he was dead..."

Shit. A weird wave of relief makes me tighten my grip around her waist. The sound she makes is one of surprise. After a moment, she uncrosses her arms and buries herself against my chest. I guess a hug was the right thing to do. I give myself back at that breathing room. Maybe this won't turn out for the worst after all.